The First Kiss is Always the Most Awkward
by Savantasaurus
Summary: Penelope finally wore Emily down enough to admit her feelings for Rossi.  She had been planning on it for a while, but she didn't really anticipate doing it in front of most of her team.


**A/N:** I wrote this ages ago and never felt it good enough to post. My wonderfully amazing friend Vee beta'd this for me over the months (yes, months, I'm so fickle!) and threatened me with painful and agonizing death if I didn't post it. There's a vague reference to the shitstorm that was the _Lauren_ storyline, but if you blink you'll miss it.

**Disclaimers:** They're not mine. If they were, season six wouldn't have happened.

* * *

><p>Most of their cases made at least one of them think their lives over. They weren't often vocal about it. Garcia was vocal about this one, especially in front of Prentiss.<p>

"It's so tragic."

They had flown back into Quantico earlier that day. Garcia met them in the bullpen, ready to bestow tight hugs and kisses on the cheeks to the agents she lovingly referred to as her babies. Her ducklings. Her lovelies. Emily was at the bottom of the stairs, reclining against the wall opposite the railing. Rossi was a step above her, resting his elbows on the rail behind him. Hotch and JJ had already gone into their respective offices to begin paperwork. Morgan was rubbing bright red lipstick off his cheek while Reid awkwardly tried pointing out which spots he had missed.

"Can you imagine? Living for years without telling someone you care about them? Not telling or showing them what they mean to you? Then suddenly...you're just-" Garcia frowned, "not there. And they'll never know."

The last victim lead what Garcia called a Tragic Double Life (that had absolutely nothing to do with the case, Prentiss had pointed out to her). He had been in love with his best friend for five years, but pretended otherwise. He had written letters, bought gifts, made mix CDs. The object of his affection never even knew how he felt, as she had never received anything from him stating so before he was killed. Everything was kept in a box with her name on it. For some reason, Morgan thought it was a good idea to give it to her. Emily figured the idea had really come from Garcia. When she was given the box and looked through the contents, she collapsed on the floor of the police station and cried into her hands. She had been in love with him, too. Neither of them had the courage to tell the other. Neither of them would take a chance because they were afraid of what may or may not have happened. Shakespearean.

Penelope propped herself against the wall next to Emily.

"That's why I make no effort to hide my feelings for all of you," she sniffled. "I want all of you to know every day how much you mean to me. People can't be afraid to take chances like that." She tossed a sideways glance at Emily. "I don't know what I would do if someone I loved died without knowing how much they meant to me, you know?"

Emily hated when she did that. She knew exactly what, when, and how to say things that could make you rethink your entire way of life. It made her sick and uncomfortable. And God forbid you try to hide anything from her, or she'd be worse. The day Emily figured out she was in love with Rossi, so did Garcia. She didn't even have to be told. Apparently Emily had "that smitten look" on her face. Or something stupid like that. The two of them had a fight that day. Nothing friendship-breaking, just that uncomfortable air that hangs around when someone points out your flaws. That was three years ago. Emily still hadn't said anything to him. She was afraid to. Afraid of her feelings, of his. His reputation and her mother. Erin Strauss and Aaron Hotchner. The last victim's love story hit way too close to home.

"No one wants to die alone," Garcia said, now looking directly at Emily. Emily suddenly felt naked.

_'Seriously? She's bringing this up again? Like this?'_

"Don't you agree, Supervisory Special Agent Rossi?" Garcia smiled up at him. A lesser man would have been terrified at that grin. Something sinister was behind it. Rossi straightened his posture and turned his body to face her. Emily stiffened slightly when he moved. He was too close. Or not close enough.

He cleared his throat. "Tragic, as you said."

Was he looking at her? Did he just get closer? '_I'm a fucking teenager all over again,'_ Emily thought. It really was tragic. She didn't want to be tragic. Least of all, she didn't want Garcia to do some kind of 'I Told You So' spiel when one of them inevitably (actually) died. She hated her emotions. Now or never, isn't that what they always say?

She sighed, a little too loud.

"Hm?"

She hated what she was about to say. About to do. This was all Garcia's fault. She turned to face Rossi. She didn't want to be tragic. She wanted Garcia to shut the hell up.

"Garcia's right." She shifted a little closer. The stairs suddenly became a rollercoaster.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"No one can live like that. Alone. Wondering. You have to take chances." It came out almost in a whisper. She looked into his eyes. _Penelope won't let you be tragic.'_

"Pren-"

She held a hand up to stop him.

"I'm probably going to regret this in about twenty seconds, but I'd rather go through some sick kind of embarrassment than never having done it at all."

She didn't give him time to say anything. She closed the distance between the two of them, grabbed the front of his jacket with both hands, and pulled him down to a comfortable level to kiss him. Garcia squeaked behind her. Morgan said something she couldn't really hear. It was an awkward first kiss, as most are, but only because she was doing this in front of their entire team. Audience aside, it was nice. Soft and slow, and maybe a little hungry. She had closed her eyes so she couldn't see his reaction. A

snapshot of a scene from The Princess Diaries flashed behind her eyes. Something about foot-popping. Before she could think more about it, the scene was gone, forced out of her mind by the feeling of his hands. His hands. On her. One on the back of her head, pulling her closer to him. One on the small of her back, gripping the fabric of her shirt as if he didn't want to let her go.

Her eyes snapped open and she pulled her head back enough to speak. "What are you doing?"

"What are _you_ doing?"

She swallowed the rock that had somehow nested in her throat. "Something I've wanted to do for a while."

"Me too."

"Oh."

"Oh? That's it?"

"I don't..." She took a breath. Shallow, because she couldn't really breathe all that well in the moment, considering what had just happened. "Not here," she whispered.

Not here? Did it matter? She's the one that kissed him in the middle of the bullpen. Out in the open. In front of everyone. Part of her wished Strauss had been there to see it.

She pushed away from him and turned around to go to her desk.

"Prentiss?"

She sat down and opened the file in front of her, determined to forget about what he just did by working on her report. _What -he- just did? What about what -you- just did?'_ He was standing next to her. She could feel him there, but didn't look at him. She had spent years just wanting to be close to him, and now just wanted him to go away.

Rossi took a pen and notepad from her desk and scribbled something down, then set it back where it was and left. She heard the door to his office close. Two seconds later, a sound came from behind her. It was like a shriek. The keening sound a fox makes when it's dying. It was Garcia. Ninja Garcia. Prentiss hadn't even known she had moved from the bottom of the stairs.

"Woman! What are you doing?" Penelope's warm, pale hands and neon orange nails pressed onto Emily's shoulders and shook her unceremoniously. "Get in there and talk to him!"

"_Stasera_," she said quietly.

"What?"

"Tonight." She pointed at the notepad on her desk. _Stasera_ was what he had written. How? Phone call? Dinner? Worse, at one of their houses? She wished the Italian word for no wasn't just '_no_' so she could tell him some other way. Maybe she could write it in Arabic and while he was figuring it out she could flee the building and go home. She was nervous again. There was nothing to be nervous about. She didn't really want to talk to him. She had no reason not to talk to him. He wanted that kiss, too. He had said so. Out in the open. In front of everyone. She could feel her face burning.

"Now." Garcia interrupted her thoughts.

"Now? Why?"

"Because I said so."

It was only then that Emily swiveled her chair around to look at Garcia. God, she was frightening sometimes. She scowled at Emily. Bright red lips pursed tightly, bleach blonde hair framing her glaring expression. The pink daisy she wore in her hair did nothing to soften the horror. Emily opened her mouth to protest, but before any sound came out Garcia had shoved a perfectly manicured finger in her face to stop her. "GO!"

Garcia had actually shouted at her. Garcia never shouted at anyone.

Somewhere to Emily's left, Morgan laughed. Deep, booming, condescending - as always. Garcia spared no time in lobbing the feathered blue pen she had been holding at him. Reid laughed this time. "You're next, Kiddo." Reid stopped laughing. Garcia could find other projectiles, and he knew it. Emily knew it, too. She also knew that getting hit by anything from pen to phone to bullet hurt like a bitch. There was no point in arguing with Garcia anymore. She had lost, whether she admitted it or not. Of course she never would. Getting up from her chair and walking to Rossi's office was _her_ idea, not Garcia's. If her life was a movie, Chopin's '_Marche funèbre_' would be playing right now. She wanted to slap the smug right out of Garcia for practically shoving her into Rossi's arms.

Emily stood in front of Rossi's door for a minute. She was debating knocking. It was the polite thing to do, after all, but she had thrown polite out the window only moments ago when she forced her mouth on his. She heard Garcia clear her throat behind her.

"Today, Sugarlips."

She decided against knocking. Her mother would be so dreadfully displeased if she had been here.

She entered his office cautiously, and slowly closed the door. The blinds were drawn and Rossi was seated at his desk, thumbing through files. She backed up and leaned against the door, trying to put as much distance as she could between herself and her colleague. Silence. He watched her. She watched the floor. Tension. She didn't want to be the first one to speak. But as the Rolling Stones said, you can't always get what you want.

"I know you said tonight, but Garcia wouldn't leave me alone," Emily said.

Rossi laughed. "Considering what you did, are you surprised?"

"Hey, I can tell her to just butt out and-"

"Not necessary, Emily."

_'Shit. He Emily'd me.'_

"How long?" he asked her.

Did she really want him to know? She mentally weighed the options of telling him versus not. He had the right to know, but it was less 'high school' if he _didn't_ know that she had it down to the day, hour, and minute. He'd appreciate knowing. She knew that. Maybe she could give him a general 'Oh, sometime two years ago,' which is what she was expecting from him.

"Well..."

"For me it was Indianapolis."

_'Oh, wow. Goodbye generalization.'_

"Indianapolis?" She feigned ignorance.

"When you stuck your nose in my business and dragged JJ and Morgan along for the ride."

She smiled. Circumstances aside, she had been happy to help him then. Seeing him finally open up and be able to more or less let go of something that weighed him down for so long was one of the reasons she had told him about Matthew.

"You don't have to stand so far away, you know."

She nodded, but made no attempt to move. The door was comforting. It held her up, and was a way out in case she needed it. Had she not been concentrating on the door and looking at floor she would have seen him move. By the time she noticed, it was too late. He was a foot away from her. The door was no longer comfortable. Now it was a trap, leaving her no more room to back up. She felt her chin being lifted by his hand. She had no choice but to look at him now. His other hand rested gently on her shoulder.

"Emily..."

The hand on her shoulder moved. Down, down, down until it found its way to her hip. She couldn't speak. His hands were on her. Again. She nervously licked her lips. She momentarily thought she must have looked like a fish. Eyes wide, mouth open in shock. The hand on her chin moved behind to cradle her head. He took a step towards her.

She wasn't sure what happened first, or if everything happened at the same time. All she was really aware of was that this kiss was amazing, and she was very glad she was pressed so hard against the door or she may have fallen over. The trap had become a safety net. Now her hands were on him, wrapped around his neck and holding on tight. His moved from her head to her back to her neck to her hips. She leaned into him. That damn scene from that damn Disney movie flashed in her mind again.

Closer. Tighter. Hungrier. Lips and tongues and hands and arms fought for control. He tasted like coffee and smelled like autumn. She loved every second of it.

She could have kissed him forever. Three years had been a long time to wait, but it was so worth it. This kiss blew the other one out of the water. This one was so _perfect_.

He pulled away. She hoped her sigh wasn't audible as she thought it was.

"Tonight," he whispered.

Her eyes were still closed, and she thought she had forgotten how to speak. "Hm?"

"Tonight, I'm taking you out to dinner. Then we're going to talk."

She opened her eyes. God, he was sexy. She wanted more of his body, not his conversation. Her lips were tingling. Her heart was racing. "Only if we can do that again."

He kissed her gently on her forehead. His lips, no matter what part of her body they were on, made her warm.

"We both have paperwork to finish, and I don't want either of us to have to stay late and ruin our evening."

She nodded. "Pick me up at 7:00."

"7:00 it is." He opened the door for her. Ever the gentleman.

She walked back down to her desk. She didn't have to look to know that everyone's eyes were on her. Morgan cleared his throat when she sat down and raised an eyebrow when she looked up at him.

"Well?" he asked.

"Since when are you so interested?" Emily asked.

Morgan shrugged. "Since Garcia told me I was."

"Hey! I heard that!" Garcia bounced over to Emily and Morgan, Reid in tow. She had told Reid he was interested, too.

"No," Prentiss said. "Absolutely not. I am not talking about this with any of you right now so don't even try." She turned her attention to the open file on her desk. "Now if you don't mind, I have a report to finish so I can hurry up and get out of here."

"Oooo~" Morgan teased. "Got a hot date?" He was the King of Shit-Eating Grins, and the one he was wearing now was absolutely stellar.

"Shut up, Derek."

"Oh come _on_ Prentiss! Inquiring minds _need_ to know!" Garcia whined.

"Absolutely not. Now get out of here, Pen, and take your minions with you."

"Hey! I'm not a minion!" Reid pretended to look offended.

"You're no fun, Emily." Garcia stuck her tongue out and turned on her heel with a huff before walking away. "Come on, boys!" Morgan and Reid followed her like lost puppies. They were probably only going to grab coffee and listen to Garcia talk about what she think happened in Rossi's office, but to Emily it was a victory. Silence, at last.

She smiled. She _was_ fun, and they could ask Rossi about just how much fun in the morning.


End file.
